


Venting

by baileaves



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Angst, Gang Rape, Hair Pulling, Horror, Multi, Psychological Torture, Spanking, Stuck in a wall, Torture, heavy trigger warning, vent fic literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baileaves/pseuds/baileaves
Summary: After the ceiling nearly collapses in on the science team and makes the next leg of their journey impossible, Gordon finds a small vent to try and go through. He ultimately becomes trapped and has to wait while the others find a way to free him. Hopefully nothing bad will happen in their absence.
Relationships: Gordon freeman/group
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	Venting

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder of heavy trigger warnings. Double check the tags before proceeding.

The science team was back underground in Black Mesa. After a terrifying run-in with helicopters and missiles on the surface, their only solace was by dropping back down underground. They would have to find some other way to get out and back on land. The rumbling of bombs could be felt and heard even now, several hundred feet underground. Every few minutes the whole building would shudder, nearly knocking the science team off of their feet. After an especially harsh round of bombing, a groaning creak was heard. All Gordon could do was cry out as the ceiling suddenly came down in a clatter of noise and wreckage. Everything was quickly consumed in a cloud of dust. Once it finally seemed to settle, Gordon carefully got up from his lowered position and gave himself the once over. He was fine, everything still intact. He pushed away a piece of metal rebar that had nearly clocked him in the head, as he stood.

"Shit," Gordon called "You guys alright?" He peered backwards through the thinning layer of smoke.

"Fucking fantastic."

"I'm- I'm alright, Mr. Freeman."

"Hello, Gordon!"

Gordon nodded at the affirmation of voices and turned back to properly assess their situation.

"Oh, goddamn it!" Gordon cried.

"Wow, are you really that upset we weren't maimed?" Bubby replied.

"What? No, not that. Look!" Gordon said with a jerk of his hand.

The doorway forward was now sealed off with an impenetrable wall of cement and steel.

"Oh no! W-what are we going to do now?" Tommy said wringing his hands nervously.

"Well, guess we're fucked." Bubby said, crossing his arms.

Gordon analyzed the pile, before approaching. Carefully he wiggled and moved various pieces of the wreck making sure to not touch anything that would ruin the structure's integrity.

"Hold on." Gordon suddenly said as he managed to spy a small opening. Moving a few more stray boards revealed a downed ventilation shaft, propped up at just about waist height.

"What? Are you crazy!? We'll never fit through there!" Bubby lamented from over his shoulder.

Ignoring him, Gordon cautiously poked his head in.

"It looks a little warped by the cave-in, but it widens back out. I think this will take us through." Gordon's voice echoed loudly from inside the vent. He gingerly put a hand in, pushing at the walls to see if they could hold his weight. It seemed sound enough. He put his other arm in, then cautiously inched himself forward. His suit screeched harshly as he pushed through the crumpled section of the shaft.

"Be careful, Mr. Freeman!" Tommy called, his voice slightly muffled from behind the wall.

"No, it's alright, I'm nearly through. You guys just follow behind… uh oh." Gordon's face blanched in the dimly lit box.

"You got yourself stuck, didn't you?" He heard Bubby say snidely.

Gordon tried not to panic as he attempted to wriggle his way backwards. When that didn't work he went again to move forward. Nothing. He made no progress either way. He was indeed stuck.

"Gordon for 10 Playcoins™ I could unlock the 'Super Slippery Player Move'." He heard Dr. Coomer announce cheerfully.

"Why would he waste them on that, when he could save up for 'Micro-form'?" Bubby cut in.

"'Micro-form' can only be unlocked after Gordon has achieved all skill points." Coomer replied.

"Guys," Gordon hollered "Can you please stop arguing about playcoins and just help me out of here?!"

"H-hold on Mr. Freeman, let's see if we can pull you out, like pulling a… a carrot out of the ground."

Gordon felt as three sets of hands grabbed at his legs.

"Alright gentlemen," Dr.Commer called, "1… 2… 3…"

He felt as his legs were pulled. The three scientists grunted behind him, as the vent holding him gave a groan of protest. They heaved twice more, but despite all their best efforts, Gordon didn't budge. 

"Wow, you really got your fatass stuck there, didn't you?" Bubby snickered.

"M-maybe if we could find some... butter or something slippery?"

"An excellent idea Tommy," Said Dr. Coomer.

"Let's get looking!"

Gordon heard them make to leave and called out in a panic.

"Wait! Guys, you can't just leave me here alone!"

"Well, if one of us needs to stay behind and babysit it's not going to be me!" Bubby said indignantly.

"I'll stay." Tommy said.

"Alright. Dr. Bubby and I will be back in about an hour, until then… just hold tight Gordon." Dr. Coomer said giggling like a schoolgirl. Gordon groaned to himself, as he heard the two elderly scientists take their leave.

"Are you alright Mr. Freeman? Do you need anything?" Tommy asked. 

"I'm fine, Tommy." Gordon sighed.

He didn't receive any further acknowledgement, but a ruffle of cloth and slight thump indicated the other had sat down.

The next while passed by at a snail's pace. Tommy was never the one for conversation, keeping to himself mostly since this had all begun. In the darkness of the metal duct, Gordon took a deep breath and attempted to calm his flickering anxiety. He was fine, Tommy was here, and Dr. Coomer and Bubby would be back in no time. Now, looking back, Gordon believed they passed a break room not too long ago. Somebody must have left some butter or olive oil in the fridge. And they  _ are _ in a science lab. Someone has to keep all the moving parts of the many machines greased. They passed a wide array of gears and pumps, there has to be lubrication somewhere. And if not that, then maybe something to just cut him out of the wall? Maybe a-

"Woop! Attention, there are free Beyblades outside." A stilted, automated voice called out.

"What the fuck was that?" Gordon called, jarred out of his thoughts.

A scampering of feet was heard.

"Tommy? What's going on?" Gordon yelled out to him. He then heard as those feet moved further and further away.

"Tommy? Tommy!?" Gordon called and was met with silence.

"...Shit." Gordon hissed.

Gordon strained his ears, trying to see if he could make out anything else. All he could hear was the still distant rumbling of bombs, and the occasional creak of metal.

"Okay, don't freak out, Gordon." He breathed out loud to himself. 

"You'll be fine, Tommy will be back. Nothing is going to happen."

Gordon took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself. The last thing he wanted was to have a panic attack while trapped alone like this. He just needed to breathe, just relax and breathe, everything will be alright.

Not that long after, he made out the sound of distant footsteps now approaching.

"Tommy, is that you?" Said Gordon.

He was met with silence. He realized there were more than one set of steps. 

"Hey Dr.Coomer, Bubby, did you guys find anything?" Gordon tried with a nervous laugh. No reply. The steps got closer. They were heavy. Heavy boots.

"Benrey, I swear to God, you better cut that shit out right now!" Gordon meant to sound angry and authoritative, but his voice trembled terribly.

It was then, he heard a voice. It wasn't Benrey. It wasn't Tommy either. In fact, it wasn't anyone on the science team. It was one he didn't recognize. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he might have heard them before, but only through the grainy compression of a radio, speaking in some code. And now they were here, without that filter, speaking plain as day.

Gordon stopped breathing.

He could hear laughter, some jeering. More than one gruff voice speaking.

How many were there? Two? Three? 

He felt something bump hard against his hip and he involuntarily cried out. More laughter, louder now.

Three, definitely three. Unless there were more? Fuck! Fuck, he wished he could see, wished he could turn around and make this a fair fight. But no, here he was, about to be killed, his head ducked down like an ostrich. God, he missed Benrey.

He could hear them debating on what to do with him. Gordon shifted nervously, his forehead beading with sweat. Maybe, if he could somehow get out now, there was a chance he could take them by surprise. Maybe he hadn't tried everything to get out. Maybe if he moved in a certain way he could pop out and take them by surprise. Then he could reconvene with the others, and they could find another way out of Black Mesa.

Gordon's train of thought came to a screeching halt when he distinctly heard the words 'nice ass.' His stomach dropped when he felt someone feeling him up. Even though he was wearing armour, it didn't seem to help at all. He could feel that hand moving along his backside, as if it were skin on skin contact. How dare they.

"Fuck off, and die, bootlickers!" Gordon cried out, his blood was boiling. He didn't care about the consequences, he mule kicked backward as hard as he could. He felt as his boots made contact. It was quickly followed by a satisfying yelp and slam as one of them hit the ground. He didn't stop, he kept kicking out wildly, trying to keep them all away from him. Kicking and yelling as hard as he could to keep them all away, to leave him the fuck alone. One of his ankles was rapidly seized. Gordon's stomach clenched in fear. Something smashed into the back of his knee. Gordon screamed. There wasn't as much armour there to take the blow. It needed to be flexible enough for him to move the joint, but also supply him with some protection. If there hadn't been anything there, he was sure the bone would have broken.

Gordon whimpered, his leg thrumming in agony. He put a fist in his mouth to stifle anymore groans, as his eyes prickled with pained tears. He could hear them talking among themselves, their tone gruffer, angrier now. Why the fuck had he done that? Maybe before they would have killed him quickly, but now they had all the more reason to make him suffer.

Hands were back on his hips now, but they had abandoned all pretense of geniality. He was being harshly grabbed at, feeling as fingers scraped and clawed at the material encompassing his hips. More talking, their tone increasing in harshness and impatience. He couldn't make out exactly what was being said, his heartbeat roaring vociferously in his ears.

He felt a sudden change of hands, then a pressure at his lower back. Something tore. Gordon gasped.

They were cutting through the soft part of fabric around his waist. Usually covered by armour, they were sticking their knife in at an angle to access it. They continued around the top of his thighs, severing the metal from the rest of his armour. Gordon hissed quietly as the knife nicked his flesh in several places.

Two hands returned to his hip and tried to pull the detached piece of armour down. The metal was pulled harshly, slamming painfully against his hip bones, but failing to be entirely removed. He could feel just the top of his butt crack against the cool air.

There was more talking, a restless sigh.

The hands were removed from his waist and Gordon shuffled nervously as he heard movement, and the sound of metal against concrete.

Something hard and cold touched his lower back. A yelp lept from him.

Gordon bit his tongue angrily when he heard a chorus of laughter, and shook in terror when that metal rod went down his crack. He shuddered as it pressed against his skin. Then it was yanked and Gordon whined. It dug uncomfortably into his skin. In turn it also pushed the front of his armour against his hips, bruising them further. Then it was wiggled over to his left butt cheek, pried at again, then repeated on his right. Gordon clenched his fists, each wrench of metal biting hard into his skin, most likely drawing blood with it. 

The bar was then removed, clattering loudly against the ground. Hands were once again at his hips. The armour was pulled at once more, and Gordon was horrified to find it was finally, slowly slipping off his hips. He tried, in a last ditch effort, to squeeze his thighs close and stop them from removing it, but with a firm tug, it slipped past his legs and fell unceremoniously to the floor.

Gordon's fists shook as he held them tightly. He stood completely exposed now, his boxers torn off with his codpiece. The fresh air springing uncomfortable goosebumps to his bare flesh.

He felt his cheeks spread and Gordon made a keening noise in the back of his throat. He could hear them admiring him. 

A sharp slap against his ass caused Gordon to cry out. He quickly clamped his hands over his mouth and muffled the next whimper as he was hit again. Angry tears streamed down his face as a chorus of blows were struck intermittently against him. He was so scared, so angry and so humiliated. How could he have let this happen to him? How had it happened so quickly? How could these brutes do this? He wanted to eviscerate them completely. He wanted to choke them, maim them, watch the life leave their eyes, and have them beg for mercy. Deplorable, disgusting assholes.

The slaps let up and Gordon could feel how red and hot his ass was now, his knee and rear both radiating in pain. He could hear them laughing and ground his teeth. Disgusting. Disgusting! Felt something warm and wet touch him. He cringed, his shoulders going up to his ears. The slimy thing trailed teasingly along his crack. Gordon clenched his fists tighter. He cursed them under his breath. His heart fluttering uncomfortably in his chest. It was agonizing, he knew what was coming, and yet they dragged this out. His ass was again being manhandled, more molding and hitting and rubbing of the flesh, that wetness never leaving him. It would move up, pausing momentarily at his hole, ever so lightly push in, then pull out and trail along his flesh again. Gordon would hold his breath each time, waiting for the pain, waiting for them to start. But it would carry on, doing laps of his flesh like it was on a leisurely stroll in the park. Goosebumps of fearful anticipation feeling like red hot pins sticking into his skin. A furious groan was torn out of the agonized scientist.

"JUST DO IT ALREADY!" Gordon screeched, his voice cracking in hysterics.

And then, they did. 

Gordon screamed.

His hands flew up to his mouth to try and stop it, but it was too late. His shaking hands clambering to his face in a vain attempt to keep the terror in. His hands scrambled around his mouth feverishly, like trying to hold back a geyser with his bare hands. He finally decided on putting one hand in his mouth and the other wrapped tightly in his hair.

It was worse than he had envisioned, then he could ever think it would be. A deep tearing pain in places he never thought he could feel pain before. Pain deep inside him, like his very intestines were being shredded to bits. And the worst part were the sudden excruciating stabs of pleasure that would suddenly rip through him. No it wasn't pleasure, it was pain, just a different sort of pain. His prostate jammed so harshly it sent electric pulses of pure agony with it, trapped in this frenzy of torment and humiliation.

His hand kept coming free from his scalp, with clumps of hair. He could hear them over his whimpers and screams, he could hear them jeering, laughing at him. The ugly and vile sound of sex punctuating them. He couldn't make out exact words, but he could hear their tone, hear their inflection. He didn't like it; didn't want to hear it; couldn't bear to hear it, lest it drive him insane. He let out an angry roar and slammed his fist against the ventilation shaft. He did it again and again and again. Trying to fill his ears with nothing but the angry metallic sound it produced. To fill his head, not with visions of their disgusting smirking faces, but with noise. Loud, harsh, indistinguishable, all encircling noise.

It seemed to suddenly work, the banging doubling in volume and intensity for a moment, loud and cracking, before swiftly fading out. Fading out to the weak and soft knocks Gordon now produced with trembling hands. He felt the wetness finally leave him and a pathetic whimper was pulled out of him with it. He instantly realized it was quiet. Utterly, deafeningly quiet. It filled him with terror. The concept of silence had become so scary and foreign now. Silence meant unpredictability, unpredictability meant misfortune. He trembled in a fever, rattling his metal coffin. He heard footsteps again, different from them. Were they familiar? Gordon tried to call out, but his voice escaped him.

"Hello?" He finally managed, the word scraping horribly from his lips. 

He felt a presence behind him, a strange and alien presence.

"Please." Gordon whispered so quietly, it barely registered in his own ears. There was a sudden tone. It was a song, but only contained one note. It calmed Gordon instantly, so much better than the taunting, than the banging, than the silence. It gently moved in and around him, swaddling him in its sweetness. He felt every molecule in him lulled. He relaxed, his eyelids falling like heavy curtains.

"Gordon?"

Gordon Freeman jerked awake with a gasp, his heart jumping out of his chest. He looked up to see the science team standing over him puzzled.

"Gordon, are you alright? It looks like you hit your head pretty hard there." Dr. Coomer gestured to a long bit of metal rebar. Gordon sat up slowly, his head sure was aching alright.

"I had an awful dream…" Gordon said, his voice coming out a tad coarser than anticipated.

"W-what about, Mr. Freeman?" Tommy inquired.

"I was…" Gordon started, but as soon as he had begun to speak, he felt the memory drift away. Slipping through his fingers like fine sand.

"Ugh, now's not the place for story time, can we just get moving!" Bubby cried.

"Dr. Freeman, you'll just have to tell us your dream after the test," Dr. Coomer announced.

"Now then, gentlemen, let's get moving."

Coomer led the way through the ruined rubble of the ceiling. Thankfully the collapse hadn't blocked their way forward. Tommy reached out a hand to Gordon, seemingly unaware his other was pointing a gun straight at his face. Gordon took the hand and steadied himself on quaking legs. Promptly he got back his bearings and turned to follow the rest of the team. He suddenly glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye. Down the way they came at the end of the hallway, he could just make out the form of a skeleton. But just as soon as he spotted it, it disappeared, ducking completely out of sight.

  
  
  
  



End file.
